Sunset
by Denealle
Summary: After years of meaningless habits, Carlos and Kenny both saw what life had for them in the sunset. This story was formed completely by my delusion. It's about Carlos & Kenny.


I know. I know it all makes no sense, but I just want to write something about it, because I ridiculously love happy endings. And they deserve one.

So, enjoy!

* * *

Sunset

Carlos has been dropping by this place for a very long time.

As Spanish, the accent did leave him nothing but hardship. That suit man with a pair of glasses was the first that told Carlos he liked his accent. Carlos should not, nor did he had reasons to, recapture the sharpness he felt in his heart when that man told him that he didn't want to go for a "ride" with him. But he could not explain why he would constantly attend that family shop for a pack of cigarettes, Lucky Strikes. God knows why he would only buy this brand.

Then years passed without hearing a beautiful but cruel stroke of the strings on time's harps. He was still there, one pack of Lucky Strikes one day, not even in remembrance of that man's face. Time seemed to be standing still all along, but something still changed. Carlos was no longer a desperate part-time model, but a small-circle famous fashion designer who would hit the audiences' eyes with his generous use of sunset red and forest green in his works. Carlos moved into an apartment 5 miles away, but he never missed his vacation, just like the first time. When Carlos tried to figure out the point of this weirdness seriously, life spared him the exertion.

Three years of college life were no longer than a wave could have to stroke the beach. Everything turned colorless since the morning when Kenny woke up in George's house, George dead on the floor. Kenny knew there was something wrong with him, his intuition told him maybe he could help George, as long as he let George know there was someone caring about him. But death hit him like a king of the universe, mocking that what he tried to do was nothing heavier than the dirt in the air. Kenny didn't go to the funeral. He had no reasons to, he thought, although all the rest of the class went.

Without a hint, Kenny lived a life just in the track of George. He broke up with Luise one year after college. And they became best friends afterwards. Kenny discovered he had interests in women no more than that he had in jackets. To the contrary, he clueless fell for men. Later then, Kenny thought maybe that could explain why he could not get that middle-aged professor off his mind, and why he kept wandering around that beautiful glass house in all those years.

Not like George being a smoldering professor, Kenny became a writer, all works about what George had taught him. Then leading a life full of freedom, one round of motorbike ride to the glass house in the sunset per day seemed to be a good chance to get away with everything Kenny couldn't figure out.

But one day, after years of vacancy, a couple of folks moved in. They knocked all the glasses off, and removed them with some stupid cement walls. Witnessing all the redecoration, Kenny thought maybe it's time for him to let it go, to press on with one last vacation.

After one last glance, Kenny rode back on, and started the engine, making a decision to leave all of this alone forever. He stretched his neck, showering in the warmth of the sunset, wondering why he had never found the sunshine so endearing.

On the way home, Kenny decided to celebrate his big move. A bottle of whiskey was necessary. Kenny saw the family shop which sat beside the park in the orange sunset.

Dressed in his normal snow-white tee, a pair of dark-blue jeans, and one sienna jack in hand, Carlos stood outside the shop, sun hanging on the west cheek of the sky, bright as before. Maybe one more pack. Carlos thought, turning around.

"I'm sorry for that." staring at the remains of the whiskey bottle, Carlos said, not very regretful, but shocked, more precisely.

"No, it's OK." Kenny was quite overwhelmed by the man outside, "Oh, it's my fault. I'll get you another pack." He added.

"It's OK. Don't worry." Carlos bowed after the man inside, a breath of whiskey working on his head.

"No, no, I insist." without a look back, Kenny turned around into the shop, knowing the man would follow.

Carlos held the door behind the man, wondering how ridiculously familiar this was to him. But Carlos had trouble figuring out when and where this happened before. Maybe it's the whiskey, Carlos thought. He never got along with the Scotch.

"Here you go." Kenny said, handing the pack to Carlos. He walked out really in a hurry. I should go back, Kenny thought. But what for? Kenny lost the reason why he would buy another bottle of whiskey. He never liked whiskey, only drank once.

"Thanks, man. Do you want one?" Carlos asked Kenny. He knew he would reject, but he expected something then.

"No, thanks." Kenny looked into Carols' eyes, forest green, shining in the sunset as he saw them."Actually, yes. Why not? Thanks."

"Carlos." Carlos said, after a long exhale of smoke. This could be the last pack. He knew it, without a reason, just the same as how he made sure he came here every day.

"What did you say?" Kenny frowned. Awkwardly, he recognized something special with this tall sculpture-looking man, something strange, tempting, but sincere as well. He could smell it through the thin air full of Lucky Strikes among them, the same scent they both had, anticipation, pure anticipation.

"Carlos. That's my name. Are you OK?" Carlos asked.

"Oh, yes, yes, I'm fine. It's just kinda a serious day for me." Kenny grinned, another inhale of cigarette buzzing in his head.

"C'mon. What could be serious for a guy like you?" Carlos smirked.

"Just trying to get over an old ... I don't know. Let's drop it. I have to go. Thank you for the cigarette." Kenny had a deep breath of the cigarette, dropped the rest, and started strolling to his motor.

Carlos didn't follow him. Somehow, he knew he didn't need to.

Just before the sun slid into the blanket of the earth, Kenny stopped, turned around, "Do you wanna go for a ride?" and he asked.

~The End~


End file.
